


The 215th Annual Arcane/Gwylim Boat Race

by nostalgic_breton_girl



Category: Elder Scrolls IV: Oblivion
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26012194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgic_breton_girl/pseuds/nostalgic_breton_girl
Summary: Julianne Traven, Arch-Mage of the Mages' Guild, and Caecilia Iucundus, Chancellor of the University of Gwylim, preside over a favourite tradition with something of a twist.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	The 215th Annual Arcane/Gwylim Boat Race

**Author's Note:**

> If this seems to have Oxbridge notes, then know that I see the two canon Universities as an Oxford/Cambridge equivalent, down to the annual boat race, which is a part of my headcanon. While the Oxford/Cambridge boat race is in rowing-boats and down the Thames, here I imagine a race around Lake Rumare, in boats which students have crafted themselves using what magic and technology is available to them.

I had not met the new Chancellor of the University of Gwylim, and was aware of her only by name: Caecilia Iucundus, a woman who had established herself as an eminent scholar, and one whom I wished might have been more interested in the practices of magic, that she might have considered attending the Arcane University. It was the first time we had been introduced to each other, when we met on the morning of the Boat Race: and I found myself at once taking a liking to the woman, despite our universities’ petty rivalries, for she was at once charming and a little eccentric, quite what one wants in an academic.

She arrived almost in state, as the Chancellor ever does, crossing the bridge surrounded by gowned scholars. – It should be noted that Gwylim goes in for gowns over robes, a tradition which is considered spectacularly impractical by Arcane University students, just as much as Gwylim students think the same about our robes. – But she was a small and smiling woman, quite the contrast with her predecessor, and when she greeted me it was with a touch of informality that I liked, an acknowledgement that we were rivalling friends, not warring enemies.

‘Arch-Mage,’ said she, bowing: ‘a pleasure, I'm sure.’

‘A likewise pleasure, Chancellor Iucundus,’ I replied.

The formalities out of the way, Caecilia and her fellows were led around the island, to the improvised viewing-platform, from which we would watch the start and the end of the race. Already had the boats had been put to water, and, now that the rules had been much relaxed, it was quite a sight to behold. – By which I mean, for the uninitiated, that the previous Chancellor’s strict observance of tradition had dictated that we hold a simple set of races, in ordinary boats, and get by on pure rowing skill. This year we had reinstated an idea which had come up of late, that of developing the most remarkable vessels, whether through magic or otherwise.

The idea had been qualified by some as perfectly unfair. After all, it meant that each team would compete on entirely different terms. But the Boat Race is, above all else, meant for fun, and connected with scholarship: and, I am told, even the most reticent are always at least secretly impressed when they see what each University has come up with.

I had not been much involved in the development of the Arcane University’s idea, but I knew a little of how it worked: it drew on some powerful Alteration effects, as well as observation of certain lake-dwelling creatures, and was a very light craft which looked as if, given a breath of wind, it might fly off, and never be seen again. This was captained by just two students, both of whom had been much devoted to building the boat. In truth it was a beautiful thing, and sat most gracefully in the water, awaiting our signal: we had only to hope that it would work, and win us the day.

The Gwylim entry was making everyone a little nervous, it must be said, even some of the Gwylim delegates. Their idea – which I had known nothing about, of course – had drawn heavily and obviously on a recent spurt of Dwemer scholarship from the University, and was nothing less than an attempted recreation of one of the fabled ancient machines. Where the Arcane University’s boat was scarcely a yacht, light as a butterfly, theirs was a great monster of a vessel: a ship of glimmering metal, geometric as per the Dwemer style, and apparently running on steam-power – as evidenced by the billowing grey clouds already pouring from a small chimney. There were two students on deck, but I imagined that there would be several more within. Certainly the thing was capable of holding them.

I wondered where they had been hiding the craft: I imagined they had hired one of the warehouses on the Waterfront. The Arcane University had needed only one of the usual boathouses.

‘We could not be more different,’ said I to Caecilia.

‘Quite!’ she replied laughing: ‘I suppose yours is more than just the simple sailing-boat which it appears?’

‘My dear Chancellor,’ said I: ‘we are masters of magic, everything we do is more than it appears.’

Then, indicating the Gwylim offering:

‘I shall be quite astounded if yours does not sink, halfway through the race. – I am quite astounded it is afloat now.’

‘The Dwemer knew what they were doing, and so do we,’ she countered.

‘The Dwemer,’ said I, ‘blew themselves to smithereens.’

There would be time for detailed discussion later – likely when one or the other boat had entirely failed to make it round the City. Now we had only to open the festivities, and begin the race.

It was the fellows of Gwylim, and the tutors of the Arcane University, who had pride of place at the starting and finishing line: and it was they whom we would address. The other students, and any citizens of the City – or indeed of elsewhere – who wished to watch were situated around the bounds of City Isle, or on the mainland, all awaiting their glimpse of the passing competitors, some of them chasing them around. – I remembered my first year at the University, intending to follow the boats the entire way round Rumare, and running out of breath by the Waterfront. – They were seated in chairs which we had brought out, or else on the grass if they wished, upon blankets, and sharing little punnets of strawberries.

‘My dear Fellows,’ said I.

‘My dear Wizards,’ said Caecilia.

‘We are most pleased to announce the two hundred and fifteenth annual Boat Race between the Arcane University and the University of Gwylim,’ I continued: ‘an event which, this year, picks up the tradition and the spirit of innovation, both magically and technologically.’

‘Each University has devised its own vessel,’ said Caecilia, ‘and it is to the crews to determine which will make the most efficient circuit of Lake Rumare. I introduce the craft of the University of Gwylim: the _Animunculus_ , a valiant combination of modern ship-building and what we have recently discovered concerning Dwemer technology. It may not look as if it can float –’ she cast a sparkling glance at me: ‘but we have every confidence in it. – And if it works, it may well be the start of an era of invention and innovation.’

‘I introduce the Arcane University’s boat,’ said I after a moment: ‘the _Lake-Dancer_. Named for the insects which skim the water, and built in imitation of them, it will – if all goes well – use Alteration to skip across the surface, in a combination of the effects we know commonly as Jump and Water Walking. The application of such spells to a boat has been a most demanding task, but I have every faith in the students responsible, whose grasp of the school is perhaps the greatest in Cyrodiil.’

The admiration of the two boats was profound, and neither had even set out yet. It was clear that the pseudo-Dwemer craft was the one which drew the eye: truly, the modern world had never seen anything quite like it, and certainly nothing which looked as if it might work. It had been all _we_ could do to get the Orrery functioning again. I could not deny I was envious. But that is not to say that our _Lake-Dancer_ was unattractive: it had none of the panache of the _Animunculus_ , and it was certainly dwarfed by it, but it had a charming measure of grace and elegance which the clunky metal ship entirely lacked.

Caecilia and I looked at each other, and at the ships; nodded; and I raised my staff, Caecilia her hand.

‘On your marks –’

I brought my staff down, Caecilia her hand; and the boats set off.

The _Animunculus_ had been very much prepared, but, side-by-side with the leaping _Lake-Dancer_ , it appeared to get off to a very bad start indeed. The most unholy cacophony of clanking emanated from within, a great cloud of smoke rose from the chimney, and at last it began its excruciating journey. By the time it had passed our little pavilion, the _Lake-Dancer_ was almost out of sight, halfway to the Waterfront.

The _Lake-Dancer_ , our charmer! the little boat went quite magnificently, glimmering with the spells upon it, those glimmers reflected in its wake, a thousand rainbows; and any doubts about its ability to skip upon the water, as if it were not water at all, were entirely unfounded. Even I in my water-walks had never gone so gracefully as this boat, had not perfectly imitated those insects which took delight in racing across the surface. Certainly I had grand hopes for it; certainly it put a good deal of distance between itself and the _Animunculus_ , in those first minutes –

The _Animunculus_ had got off to a bad start, but it started to pick up speed, and when at last it emerged from the smoke – which left soot all over its bronzed sides – it was chugging along nicely, and growing faster with every rotation of the wheels. A steadier craft than the _Lake-Dancer_ , and certainly one which seemed more indomitable. I had no doubt that it would catch our boat up, at some point, whether it be soon, or perhaps on the last stretch, to add to the excitement.

There was much uncharacteristic cheering from the academics on the pavilion; shouts and waving gradually along the banks, from the watching citizens; and then the boats disappeared from our line of sight, and we settled back to await the finale.

‘A glass of something, my dear Chancellor?’ said I, inviting Caecilia to the blanket which I had prepared.

Father was on the blanket already, and seeing our approach uncorked a bottle of Tamika. He had got out three glasses: but the Chancellor, it turned out, had a companion, a Nord woman who dwarfed her, and who was not wearing Gwylim dress.

‘My partner,’ said she: ‘Jenette.’

‘A pleasure,’ said I with a bow.

When the drinks were poured, then the strawberries were brought out, and set in bowls with copious amounts of cream. It was as ever a charming afternoon for a picnic, and more charming for a conversation, and I was eager to find out about the Chancellor, and about what she intended to do as the head of Gwylim.

‘Oh!’ she said: ‘I have a good deal of projects... Foremost among them is a study of Nordic legends, and an accumulation of those which risk becoming lost. I would tell you more, but it’s not something that’s really out yet even at the University... It’s something Jenette holds dear to her heart. We are hoping to go to Skyrim. The Bards’ College has already offered a collaboration. It looks all set to be an interesting project.’

‘Indeed,’ said I.

‘There seems to be an undercurrent of cultural shift in Skyrim, at the moment,’ Caecilia went on: ‘it would be a shame, if all were to change, and the previous culture be entirely lost. After all, it’s an oral tradition: there is a good deal that is simply not written down at all. And _then_ there is the matter of the Skaal...’ She halted, smiled a little, as if she had said too much. ‘Leastways, it’s all set to be a good project. I’ve needed this, I haven’t had anything so in-depth to work on in a while.’

She invited me to detail my current project, which I did:

‘I am working on Nirnroots,’ said I, ‘prompted by a discussion at the Symposium – the Imperial Alchemy Symposium, I mean. Have you heard of Sinderion?’

‘Is he the eccentric alchemist?’ Caecilia ventured: ‘lives in Skingrad, I believe?’

‘Aren’t we all eccentrics here?’ I laughed. ‘Yes, he’s the one from Skingrad. He believes that Nirnroots have a lot of untapped alchemical potential, and are understudied. It must be said, we haven't found a lot so far. But the structure of Nirnroots seems rather different to that of most plants – and of course that is far from the only difference.’

‘I didn’t realise they could be used in alchemy at all,’ Caecilia put in.

‘We’re working on it,’ I said, smiling. ‘It’s quite the task working out the effects. Nothing has yet worked in combination. It could be that we attempt a single-ingredient potion. That might have to be the next step.’

She sipped from her glass. ‘I hope it goes well.’

‘Your project likewise.’

The conversation turned to other things; Father joined in, eagerly; Jenette, occasionally, with more than a little reticence. It must be said, Caecilia was a splendid interlocutor, a little more anarchic wit and less affectation than one usually gets from Imperial scholars: with that and her height, I might almost have pinned her as a Breton. Though she was primarily a researcher in social landscapes, in history and geography – the image of the Gwylim scholar – she knew more than a little of magical theory, and contributed unfalteringly to our discussion of such things.

We were interrupted in our picnic by the arrival of Bothiel – the only Councillor who had not been present at the start of the race, for she had been on the other side of City Isle, ready to Recall herself back, and report on the progress.

‘Ah!’ said I, when she put in her appearance: ‘what news of the boats?’

Bothiel smiled at the both of us, and most particularly at me. ‘The _Lake-Dancer_ is yet ahead of the _Animunculus_ ,’ said she: ‘and significantly so, now; and the _Animunculus_ appears to be having some difficulty. It is producing a fine amount of smoke, and not holding itself well in the water.’

‘Oh!’ said Caecilia.

‘Perhaps they can pour water on whatever is smoking,’ said I: ‘there is enough water around and about.’

‘I should think that will produce a lot more steam than is useful,’ Caecilia pondered. ‘It’s a delicate operation, this steam-power. It took enough time just to make something that moved.’

‘The _Lake-Dancer_?’ said I.

‘Oh, still moving finely,’ said Bothiel: ‘and will be around back to the start in no time at all, at the rate it is going.’

I clapped the downtrodden Caecilia on the back, and she returned the gesture, in good humour.

Bothiel had been quite right about the _Lake-Dancer_ , for it was scarcely any time at all, before the vessel made its reappearance. – We had hardly finished our punnet of strawberries, when it rounded the last spit of land, slowed down in a spray of lake-water, and came to an impressive halt, an interpretation of the Slowfall effect. – I do not remember a Boat Race ever being won so quickly, and the pride was plain on the crew’s faces, when they disembarked, amid cheers from the Arcane University representatives, and reserved good-natured clapping from those from Gwylim.

‘My congratulations,’ said I to the crew: ‘it is too long since we have won a race. Gwylim has all the rowers; we have all the Alteration mages; it is quite fair that our turn should come.’

‘If you say so,’ said Caecilia, at my side, though she likewise congratulated the victors.

‘There will be discussion, later, about the magics behind this boat,’ I went on: ‘but for now, come, have a bottle of something, there’s still plenty and you deserve it.’

If there was anything that might be said about the two pilots of the _Lake-Dancer_ , it is that they were drenched head to foot: they had taken every wave which they had created, and looked more dishevelled than anything else. That is, I believe, the peril of any mage who works with water. – They graciously accepted the towels which were found for them, and went to sit on a prepared blanket, with a good bottle of wine and strawberries fit for an Emperor. – They were allowed a few minutes of respite, after the magical and physical energies spent on their endeavour: but the question was not long in coming, that of when they had last seen the _Animunculus_.

‘Oh!’ said the one, an Imperial student by the name of Gaius: ‘they got into difficulties just past the prison, where the lake is shallower. Actually it looked like they were sinking, but we were going too fast to see what was going on.’

‘Sinking!’ cried Caecilia.

‘I’m sure they’ll be fine,’ said Gaius: ‘they can all swim, I’m sure.’

‘What of the boat, though?’

‘I’m sure it will be of great interest to Gwylim scholars, when in two hundred years they dredge it up, and think that the Dwemer were still around in the 420s,’ said I in jest.

‘ _Thank_ you,’ replied Caecilia.

The fate of the _Animunculus_ was now the principal point of interest: some people even got up and started to walk round in that direction, in the hope of catching it up before it fell apart. I was more optimistic, and had already determined it would at least make it to the finishing-line; I expressed as much to Caecilia, and discovered that I was more hopeful even than her.

‘I think we have proven our overambition,’ she said.

‘Oh! don’t say that,’ said I, ‘it may be overambition now, but better that than underachievement. If you have built a functioning steam-vessel, then you are very far along with recreating the great works of Dwemer technology.’

‘Functioning, to the minimum degree,’ said Caecilia.

I had, as it turned out, been excessively optimistic. The next report which we received was from Kud-Ei, who had been stationed opposite Wellspring, and who Recalled herself to us to announce the complete failure of the craft. It was yet afloat, she said, but no longer going, and the new attempts at propelling it were with a punt-pole – which given the size and weight of the craft was not really working.

‘Do you think the Dwemer ever resorted to punting?’ I said, laughing, as Caecilia and I set out to inspect the situation.

‘It was us Imperials who invented punting,’ replied Caecilia, with some bizarre pride: ‘so I doubt it.’

We caught sight of the boat just after Wellspring, in the shallows about the promontory. It was not sinking, but it was much lower in the water than it had been, and the attempts of its crew to unstick it from the mud with a punt-pole were to me quite amusing. 

‘Oh! my dear fellows,’ cried Caecilia across the lake: ‘we have already lost, I should concentrate on getting to land.’

‘That’s what we’re trying to do, Chancellor,’ said a young woman from the prow. ‘Bit of help wouldn’t go amiss.’

‘Have you tried Alteration?’ I shouted, and there was a burst of self-deprecating laughter from the ship.

We were about to decide on a magical solution – or perhaps a simple one, involving ropes – when something shifted, a puff of smoke launched itself from the chimney, and the boat began moving again. It had about enough left in it to reach the shore; there the crew disembarked, bringing with them the ropes necessary to anchor the thing to the mooring-bollards on the next quay. Caecilia went to meet them, and clapped them all on the back; I did likewise, in good humour.

‘A fine attempt,’ said I: ‘and almost worthy of the Dwemer themselves. – It is a shame, really, that you did not succeed. I think what you _have_ managed to do will be of significance to technological scholarship.’

‘And will the Arcane University be interested in it?’ Caecilia put in, teasing me.

‘Oh! not in the slightest,’ I grinned.

We led the crew back to the University peninsula, leaving the boat for the moment; they were grateful for the respite and the refreshments, and discussed the race in good-natured terms with the Arcane University pilots. There had been some grumbling, among older fellows, that the race had been far from fair – of _course_ the boat that was lighter than air had won, but it was _impractical_ for most things one wants a boat for – but for the most part, the winning did not particularly matter, it was what had been achieved in magic and technology that mattered.

That, I think, was the essence of both our universities: while the regular citizens would be discussing who won, and how they won, we scholars would merely talk about what might have been improved, what we had achieved, and what might be achieved in the future.

‘That,’ said I to Caecilia: ‘that is why the rowing-race was such a horrible idea.’

‘Wasn’t it hideous?’ she agreed. ‘I am glad we can return to fine tradition.’

‘Fine tradition of getting stuck in the mud and soaking our best students.’

‘Nothing better in the world.’

When we parted at last, that evening – after more wine, too much in fact, and more strawberries and biscuits than you can shake a stick at – it was having decided to keep up correspondence, to keep the two universities connected, even while we maintained our friendly rivalry. – And we parted as friends, which is quite the best result of a competition, and which felt leagues better than my tenuous relationship with the previous Chancellor.

Those coming from other provinces may find the race perfectly baffling: and that is perhaps understandable. But there is something charming in the bizarrity – I love it dearly – I think because it is tradition and innovation all in one, an encapsulation of our two universities. A marvellous thing, then, this Boat Race! – and long may it last!


End file.
